Unexpected Harvest

At the beginning of 2009, I had a vision for the year. Not a resolution exactly, but more like a creative inspiration. Books like Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, Camille Kingsolver and Steven L. Hopp and Edible School Yard: A Universal Idea by Alice Waters inspired me as I perused seed catalogs and contemplated wire cages versus stakes. When I traveled, I made it a point to seek out seeds not available in my area. By the hundreds (yes hundreds) I started seeds indoors, faithfully taking them out each day for sun and bringing them in each night to protect them from late frost. I asked others which varieties grew best for them. I started seeds for friends who don't even garden and pushed off tomato seedlings like kittens from an unexpected litter. In short, I was going to be a tomato goddess.

The Salinas Valley is sometimes referred to as the "Salad Bowl of the World." If this figurative salad is homegrown, it may or may not contain tomatoes, depending upon where on the Central Coast you live. One of the features of living on the Monterey Peninsula that makes it so amenable is its microclimates. The diversity in microclimates means that there is a location for many different tastes. I, for example, really like to see the sun and happily my home situated in a little sun belt. It was this sunbelt location that made me think I could grow tomatoes, despite my home's location so near the ocean.

Early Girl encouraged my Dad. San Francisco Fog suggested a colleague. By the time Spring Break came about, I fretted about leaving on vacation because my plants might suffer. In September my dad inspected my plants which had grown to impressive heights, blossomed and set fruit yet not yielded a single ripe tomato. "Hold back on the watering" was his only suggestion. Later that month I broke down and accompanied friends to a tomato U-pick event at Mariquita Farm, just to satisfy my craving for that bright, happy flavor.

By October I gave in, regularly buying dry farmed Early Girl tomatoes from a local Farmers' Market. I was only slightly consoled when the vendor assured me that 2009 had been horrendous for tomatoes. Perhaps my dearth of homegrown tomatoes wasn't karma from that botany degree I earned but never really used. I used her comment as permission to neglect my own plants. After all, season's end was coming.

One of the things that locals on the Central Coast can feel revel in is the opportunity to be sleeveless during the Winter holiday season. Sure we get frost and rain, but it is pretty common to see locals in their shirtsleeves and flip flops among the bundled up tourists in places like Cannery Row. I once lived in Minnesota, and after growing up here I will never take flip flops in December for granted again.

On January 1st I paused and surveyed the effect of the neglect that set in during the Fall. At first glance my yard looked like a graveyard of dried tomato plants with withered leaves and bent stalks. A closer look however revealed a surprise. The unexpected harvest was just a small handful of ugly, tiny tomatoes with exactly the flavor I had hoped for a Winter earlier. True, it wasn't the harvest I expected, but it was there, even after I had given up hope.

Was 2009 less than the year you envisioned as the calendar rolled over from 2008? Were you, like me, able to mine some small solace from an otherwise less than stellar reality? If so, you are not alone. Regardless, Happy New Year to you and all the unexpected yields that are to come.

Monterey Christmas Bird Count

I'm not a morning person. I joke about this a lot at work, because in my line of work there are not a lot of late starts. There, I mostly have to fake it. All my friends and family are trained to call me after 10:00 a.m. on the weekend. It isn't because I'm not awake, but because I don't want to talk or be obliged to do anything before then. The one exception to this is birding. Birds tend to be most active at dawn and at dusk which is when they are either replacing the stores of energy depleted during the night or gathering reserves for the coming night. If you want to see the most birds for your effort, it usually means rising early. This is how I found myself shivering and groggy on Monday the 28th, walking along the streets of Pacific Grove.

The Christmas Bird Count is an event sponsored by the Audubon Society. Held every year around Christmas, volunteers from our local area and beyond come together to find, identify and count birds. These data, along with those from other Christmas Bird Counts from around the nation, are compiled and used to detect trends in bird populations.

Birders of all levels are welcome to participate in the Christmas Bird Count. I am relatively new; it has been six years since I participated in my first Christmas Bird Count, and my binoculars have been unused since. I am lucky enough to be friends with avid birder Steve Rovell. Steve is part of the Monterey 400 Club, a group of highly skilled birders who has seen 400 or more species in Monterey County. Steve and his friend Rob were good enough sports to let me tag along with them all day.

Birding is relatively easy and can be done from your backyard, walking through neighborhoods streets, or on a hike. As with any hobby, you can start off simply and then invest in specialized gear as your interest grows. At the minimum you will want some binoculars, comfortable footwear and a guide to local birds in your area. You can use a field guide, a fold out card, or a cell phone application, all of which are relatively inexpensive. You will want to dress for the weather too, something I failed to do properly. (Fortunately, my house guest was gallant enough to come out and meet us for a bit, and leave me with an extra shirt, jacket and hat).

Monterey County is a very birdy county, mostly because of its wide diversity of terrain and coastline. My plucky band of friends and I were joined throughout the day by other birders who had completed their counts. Our best birds were Baltimore Oriole (spotted by Rob Fowler) and Tennessee Warbler (spotted by Ryan Terrill). Both of these birds are rare for the Monterey Peninsula, though Baltimore Oriole was included in last year's count. Oddly enough, we saw both rarities in the same acacia tree.

The day concluded with the compilation dinner held at the Pacific Grove Senior Center. All of the count participants, perhaps 50 or so, came together, shed their layers of warm clothing, and enjoyed a burrito bar and hot cider as we tallied up our estimated of the birds we had seen. Don Roberson served as Master of Ceremonies, calling out bird species as participants responded with a "yes" if they had seen one or more.

For me, the most salient part of the whole day was this simple but special process. Remember, the purpose of this day was to get data with which to determine trends in bird populations. It was powerful to feel the deep concern and regret when a species name was called without any "yes" responses. Similarly, there was a shared joy when it was announced that Mountain Quail had been seen, a first for Monterey County. What a neat feeling to be part of group, young and old, that shared an avid common interest so deeply anchored in the Monterey Peninsula. The feeling was profound enough for me to be inspired to get up early more often to catch those active early morning birds....and that alone is a bit of miracle in itself.